


Crossed Up

by emmykay



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Alternate Reality, Baseball, Friendship, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:26:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2345051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmykay/pseuds/emmykay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Abe goes to Musashino and Mihashi stays at Mihoshi.  Rated for language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossed Up

**Author's Note:**

> Crossed up = a baseball term, where a catcher calls for a particular pitch and the pitcher delivers something different. [Ref.](http://www.thebaseballjournal.com/terminology/battery-baseball-pitching-terminology/)
> 
> Because of all the art about this topic. [ oldbridges 1 ](http://oldbridges.tumblr.com/post/97145130163/oof69-dump-again), [ oldbridges2 ](http://oldbridges.tumblr.com/post/92221996873/inspired-by-this-post-done-by-pixiv-user), [ phixuscarus](http://phixuscarus.tumblr.com/post/97133939655/more-oof-twitter-dump-oof-69-team-swap-random), and [ 毛星](http://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=42836811).

Abe Takaya wasn't tasting the soba nor the side dishes his mother worked so hard to make for dinner. Nor was he listening to the conversation between her and his brother.

He chewed angrily, his attention on the past afternoon's practice and how miserable all the pitchers on Musashino Dai Ichi's high school baseball team were. Why the hell was he going to this school again? Kaguyama could barely pitch and Haruna was a human-sized mound of garbage who couldn't hit the side of a barn -! His breath came out harsh and aggrieved.

Shun was saying, "...pitcher with 9 sections in strike zone..." 

Takaya's head whipped around so fast, he frightened Shun into a protective hunch, arms over his head to shield from lightning-fast noogies. "What? Who??"

"Taka," reprimanded his mother.

"Who?" Takaya repeated, intensely. "I'm not going to hit you," he chided Shun. He ignored his mother entirely. 

Shun blinked, slowly dropping his arms. 

"What pitcher has 9 sections in the strike zone?" This was something Takaya needed to see. Haruna, that shit who barely had an in zone and an out zone, really needed to see this. Their first month together as a battery at Musashino was okay, but it lacked something important, some kind of gelling. They were a good battery, he knew that, on par with the best of other local teams because of their shared history. It just didn't feel as good as he instinctively thought it should. He had hoped to make their season better. Somehow. Maybe this was it.

"Somebody named Mihoshi?" Shun frowned. "Can't remember." 

"Anything else? How do they know?" Takaya prodded.

"Tajima -" 

Takaya nodded. Tajima Yuuichiro would notice nine sections. That kid had an eye even in Boys' League. Since Shun had found out that Tajima had started attending a nearby school and joined their fledgling baseball club, he had spent a lot of time hanging out at Nishiura's playing fields. He was almost certainly going to Nishiura at the end of this year.

"-said a friend of his from the Sea Breams moved to Gunma and Hanai didn't believe - " Shun launched into some story about Nishiura that had very little to do with the inquiry suddenly burning inside Takaya's gut. 

Takaya sighed. Little brothers. He left the table to get his phone.

"Taka! Your dinner is getting cold!" his mom called.

"Yeah," he said, not looking up from his internet search. (Sometimes, you get lucky.) He found a school by the right name in the right prefecture, but no kid by that name. (Sometimes, you don't.) But they did have a high school baseball team, and an online school paper with a game schedule. (Takaya believed more in hard work, anyway.)

* * *

After staking out a position where he could best view both pitcher and catcher, Takaya looked around. There weren't a lot of people in the stands. Not like at Musashino. But hell, Musashino had Haruna. Now that Haruna was in his second year, scouts from colleges and pro leagues were starting to come out in force.

Still, a pitcher with nine (nine! Takaya couldn't believe) sections should have more of an audience than this. The environment couldn't take the blame; when he had walked by, the school building was really clean and the grounds well-maintained, gardens planted with all sorts of flowers. The baseball-only field was nicely groomed, had evening lights, and the seats were pretty new. It was nicer than Musashino, but private schools had more money for that kind of thing.

A grandfatherly-looking person one row down commented on the mediocre record of the team over the past couple of years to his neighbor. Maybe that could be the reason for the crummy attendance?

Haruna had looked at Takaya funny when he'd announced he was leaving practice early this Saturday morning. "You going to see a girl?" 

"Yeah, too bad you're just going to be with these guys," Takaya had answered snottily on his way out. Haruna didn't deserve an explanation.

Coach didn't care, Ookawa, their captain, frowned, and some of the other players looked concerned, but ultimately, no one said anything. They tended not to get in his way. Haruna would give him shit when he got back, but fuck it. Haruna would give him shit regardless. Might as well be for something different. Nine sections, if true, was fucking legendary. Takaya _had_ to see it.

Takaya held up a little handheld camcorder to capture the team in the field, knowing Haruna wouldn't believe it without proof. He zoomed onto the center of the field when Mihoshi took the field. "Kanou Shugo, starting pitcher," was introduced to the crowd. 

The first inning proved disappointing. The pitcher, a medium-built right-hander, was steady, reasonably accurate. Fine for high school. Nothing like the image in Takaya's head. 

Score was 0-1 at the top of the third inning, favoring the opposing team. Takaya was tempted to leave, but given the time it had taken him to get to this damn game, he decided to stay. There should have been more runs from the opposing team. Only the efforts of the infield kept them in check; especially that giant with the sideburns. The catcher, Hatake, made Takaya unreasonably irritated. Fast, sure. Also unimaginative and predictable. Takaya had the pattern down mid-way through the second inning. May the baseball gods strike Takaya down should he become like that guy.

The pitcher let go of three runs. Not a surprise - he was holding his shoulder in an odd way. An injury? 

The fourth inning had a new pitcher. Takaya perked up. "Mihashi Ren." Takaya let the name sink in as a skinny right-handed guy trotted out onto the mound. Hatake tossed the ball carelessly. The pitcher reached out, almost bobbling the ball before securing it inside his mitt. Mihashi looked around nervously, hunching his shoulders and kicking at the dirt. Takaya felt his face fall into unimpressed lines. This guy couldn't possibly be Nine Sections. Could he? If Mihashi Ren wasn't Nine Sections, who the hell was?

There was something to the new pitcher. The pitches were on the slow side lacking any charisma, but there were some variety; Takaya could count at least two kinds of breaking balls. Hatake ignored some of the pitcher's efforts. Takaya tightened his mouth. A catcher can make or break a defense, and this guy was NOT doing his job. He couldn't keep from shouting "move your ass, lardbutt!" when Hatake missed a second pop fly. Mihashi jerked his head toward the stands, but went swiftly back to looking longingly at the catcher.

Toward the end of the fifth inning, it seemed like Hatake had given up giving signs altogether. And he never went toward the mound to talk to Mihashi. Even when Takaya wanted to beat the ever-loving shit out of Haruna, he went to talk to his pitcher. The fuck - ? 

Top of the sixth inning, score 2-4. A new catcher for Mihoshi, Suzuki, came on board. About goddamn time, Takaya thought. He was thoroughly sick of Hatake. Takaya had seen, and been involved in, some shit with pitchers, but nothing like the garbage he'd seen on that field today. Pitchers were their own brand of personality problems, but you don't disrespect anybody, _anybody,_ ANYBODY, on the field like that.

Suzuki seemed even smaller than Mihashi, especially crouched down. Suzuki's calls seemed a bit random and timid, resulting in too many hits. However, it was a marked improvement over Hatake. Mihashi's pitches began to take on some shape, he got more strikes. A possible third kind of breaking ball appeared. 

Seventh inning. Mihashi came up to to bat. Takaya took note: hitting lefty, pitching righty. A little weird, but no accounting for personal preference. Mihashi swung at almost anything, making an easy strikeout for the opposing pitcher. Too bad the kid couldn't hit. 

The game ended after nine innings, 3-6 for the opposing team. Takaya shut off his camcorder and stood up, already starting to work on the data he'd collected. He looked around, surprised, having been too involved in the game to realize any earlier. 

He was alone in the stands.

* * *

Takaya watched the last innings on the recorder's small screen while sitting in the train station, jotting notes as they occurred to him. There weren't a lot of other people waiting, so he felt free to spread out along the bench as much as he wanted. He played the footage to confirm his initial impressions. Ideally, he'd have a couple more games' worth of data, but still, five innings would be enough to show Haruna. Suzuki rarely had to move his mitt, and when he did, he did so in at least four distinct places.

Even more interesting than the four sections was that Mihashi never ever shook off a sign. 

The shadows were lengthening in dark lines over the spring-green vegetable fields with the approach of dusk. Idly, Takaya wondered what would he do with a pitcher like that? When he had arrived at Musashino, he, Akimaru and Machida had spent some time sniffing each other out to determine their respective status. While he couldn't absolutely dismiss Machida (and Kaguyama who belonged to Machida), Akimaru was overcome easily enough. Takaya knew he could easily be the permanent catcher and call all the shots he wanted. It was Haruna who was crap at listening.

Even though he was a first year, Takaya had become Haruna's main catcher through the simple ability to consistently catch his fastballs. Machida had a lot of experience and was generally in support of plain speaking, which Takaya agreed with, even though he thought Machida was pretty soft in his data management and not very daring in his calls. Then again, with Kaguyama, there wasn't much to work with in four innings. 

Akimaru's greater emphasis on tact generally had Takaya rolling his eyes, but it sometimes worked better with Haruna than his own bluntness, and better rapport was nothing to sneeze at. Akimaru was Haruna's personal and private pet, which, Takaya thought frankly, was a waste. If he felt like the catching equivalent to a glory hole, what did Akimaru feel like as Haruna's actual catching 'wall?' 

The train came into the station and Takaya boarded it, looking at the schedule on the wall reflexively. He knew when to get off for his transfer, but it never hurt to double-check. The last call was made and just before the doors shut, a wiry body dashed into the compartment, noisily collapsing against the seats across from him. Takaya looked over and saw a bookbag with "MIHOSHI" printed on it in English in large block letters and the face he'd been staring at for the last three hours. 

"Hey," he said, turning in his seat. 

The boy seemed to freeze. Slowly he looked over. 

Wondering if he should be regretting his impulsive greeting, Takaya pointed to the bag. "You're the pitcher for Mihoshi, right? I just saw you play." 

Recognition lit the light-colored eyes. "You - you - you called Hatake 'lardbutt.'"

"Yeah," Takaya admitted, having recently listened to the hard evidence on the camcorder. "He should have gotten those flies. No excuse."

The boy smiled for a brief second before seizing up with nervousness. He bobbed his head as he said, "Mihashi Ren."

"Abe Takaya. I'm a catcher for Musashino Dai Ichi High School."

Mihashi looked at a loss for something to say. 

"It's in Saitama." Takaya refrained from talking about reaching the prefectural semi-finals last year.

"You came here from Saitama?" Mihashi's eyes were wide. "Why? We wouldn't ever play anybody in Saitama."

Takaya decided to lay all his cards on the table. "I heard about your pitching."

"My, my, my pitching?" Mihashi asked, as if hearing that someone being interested in his pitching was the most remarkable thing he had ever heard.

What was wrong with those kids in Mihoshi that they didn't notice what took Takaya less than five innings to see? Takaya leaned forward. "When you pitch, how many sections do you divide the strike zone into?"

"Nine."

Bingo. "Where? How? Show me."

With tip of his tongue sticking out of his mouth, Mihashi drew a grid in the air, like a tic-tac-toe board. 

"All those?"

Mihashi nodded. "I - I practice on a board with that painted on it."

"What's your percentage of reaching any one of those when you're trying?" Takaya couldn't believe what was actually coming out of Mihashi's mouth.

"Um, more than 90%?" The way Mihashi spoke, his answer seemed more question than statement. Still, astonishing if anywhere close to being true.

Takaya's eyebrows rose. "You sure?"

After the kind of pause that indicated serious thought, Mihashi nodded. 

Takaya felt like he was burning up, he was so excited. He opened his mouth, but heard the station of his transfer announced through the train's overhead speakers. "Damn - I've got to get off this next stop - "

"Me, too!" blurted out Mihashi. Then he looked abashed that he had actually spoken, and then nervous of what Takaya's response might be.

Quizzically, Takaya asked, "You know that stop's for the local to Saitama, right?"

"Yeah. I'm visiting my parents this weekend."

"You live in Saitama?"

"Uh-huh." Mihashi nodded. He gave a street name. 

"Hey! That's not far from my parents' house."

The train stopped and they got off.

"Why're you at Mihoshi if your parents live in Saitama?"

"My grandfather - he - he owns the school. I board there, but I come home a lot."

If Takaya had taken his own temperature, he'd have noticed a sudden fever spike. "What're you doing this weekend?"

"I don't know, my mom sometimes - "

Takaya pulled out his phone. "Gimme your phone number. I want to practice with you."

Mihashi blinked. "Why?"

"Because you're amazing," Takaya said.

Bright red covered Mihashi's cheekbones. "No - no - "

"Yes yes _yes_ ," Takaya said. He flipped open his camcorder's screen. "Here, I recorded the game and I want you to see something."

Mihashi's eyes widened as Takaya pointed out issues with the catcher, the signaling, the other pitcher. He looked at Takaya's face, then to the screen, then back to Takaya's face, as if he couldn't believe somebody was talking to him. Mihashi seemed to absorb the attention like a thirsty sponge. His train of thought wasn't always the easiest to follow, and he didn't seem to understand everything Takaya was saying, but it was nice to expound some theories without worrying about offending people on the team. They continued talking as they boarded the next train and then all the way to their final destination.

Takaya said, "I can see why they pulled the catcher, and the starting pitcher's okay - "

"Kanou is the ace!" Mihashi blurted. "Just his shoulder - it's been having some problems."

"He's fine," Takaya said, not really agreeing. He was pleased that his theory about Kanou proved correct. "And Suzuki doesn't seem to know what to do with your pitches - "

"He's new. Just started on the team."

"And you?"

"First year, but I've been playing with a lot of the team since middle school."

The announcement came for their stop. As they separated, Takaya again urged Mihashi to call him, and they exchanged numbers. He walked home, whistling. His phone buzzed and he looked at the screen. 

A text from Mihashi Ren.  
_Catch tomorrow?_

Takaya quickly replied: _My house. 8am._ And then he carefully typed out the address.

The return was almost immediate. _OK._

Takaya went into his house, not realizing how hard he was smiling until his mother asked what was wrong.

* * *

The doorbell rang. Takaya jumped out of the bathroom and checked the clock. 7:45. He heard his mother greeting somebody as he hustled into some clothes.

"Taka!" she called up the stairs. "Your friend Mihashi is here!" Takaya ignored the implicit question in her voice. So what if he never had people over?

"Right," he said, leaping down the steps three at a time.

"Taka," his mother said, sighing. "Eat something."

"Right," he said, cramming a slice of toast into his mouth. 

Mihashi was standing in the entry hallway wearing track pants and a t-shirt, glove and ball in hand, hanging on his shoulder was an over-stuffed bag with a bat sticking out of the side, looking nervous. 

"Come on," Takaya said, grabbing his own mitt, mask, bat, and bottle of water. "We're going down the street to the park." Without looking back, he said, "Bye, mom."

"I - I'm - I'm early - " Mihashi stumbled as they began down the street.

"No, it's fine. Better than late. Anyway, I've got a short practice this afternoon at school, so more time is good. You don't have practice today?"

Mihashi said, "We've got off after game day. To rest."

They picked a side of the empty ballfield, away from the pensioners taking their walks. Takaya pounded a quick fist into the center of his glove and held it open toward Mihashi. "C'mon."

Mihashi tossed it. They exchanged a few more tosses, and then Takaya walked over. "What kind of pitches you got? I thought I saw two."

"Three. Uh, breaking balls."

"And a fastball, right?"

"It's just a pitch, though. I - I - it's disappointing. It's not fast. Kanou's is a lot faster."

"I didn't ask Kanou to practice with me." Takaya dismissed Mihashi's concerns. "Show me your signs. I want to see what you got."

After making sure he understood Mihashi's somewhat quirky signal system, Takaya went over to a corner and settled into an relaxed crouch. He signed for a fastball to the center. 

Mihashi just stood there. 

"C'mon," he urged.

"It's kind of slow," said Mihashi, tentatively.

"I've seen it. Let me have it," Takaya ordered, still squatting.

Mihashi wound up and let it fly. 

"Again," Takaya said, tossing the ball back. Did he really see what he saw?

"Again." Once more to make certain the flight path was what he thought it was.

"Again." Yeah. Nice. He was right. 

"Again." This time, Takaya signed for a screwball. Low to the center.

"Again." This time, he asked for a slider. High to the left.

"Again." Fastball, low to the right. A test. Mihashi passed with flying colors. Takaya's skin warmed with the realization that calling Mihashi's pitching was like a completely different sensation than calling anybody else. Responsive, nimble, obedient. 

"Again." When Mihashi paused, Takaya asked, "What?"

Mihashi looked over to the side, where two people were watching them. 

Takaya recognized Shun, the other was familiar-looking but not immediately identifiable. "Hey," he called.

"Hey," Shun said. He eyed Mihashi curiously.

"I'm Abe Takaya," he said, for his brother's friend's sake. Takaya jerked his thumb in Mihashi's direction. "This is Mihashi. Mihashi, this is my younger brother, Shun."

Shun said, "I'm a catcher and outfielder for the Kawaguchi Eagles. This is Tajima, third-base for Nishiura's baseball team."

Tajima's mouth opened in a wide grin. "You're from Mihoshi?"

Mihashi nodded. 

"You know that kid with the nine pitching zones?"

Bright red spots appeared high in Mihashi's cheeks.

Takaya said, "That's him, all right."

"Cool! You wanna play?"

"You want to pitch?" Takaya asked. When there wasn't a reply, he glanced at Mihashi, who seemed stunned at the attention. "C'mon," Takaya said, nudging Mihashi. "I'll catch." He turned to Shun, "You want to call it?"

"This isn't some test for your team, is it?" asked Shun, suspiciously. 

Takaya gave an open-armed, hey-I'm-harmless gesture. "Mihashi's from Gunma, and you know exactly how I catch. It's the same way you do. I think it's okay."

Tajima said, "I want to see this pitching."

Shun nodded grudgingly. "Okay."

Calling a pitcher like Mihashi against a hitter like Tajima. Takaya felt a surge of gratitude to whatever higher powers made this moment happen. He squatted down.

"Hey," Tajima said, "You don't want to put on any protection?"

Takaya considered and got his mask, tossing Shun his as he walked back.

"No cup?"

Takaya looked at Mihashi, who looked back a little nervously. 

"You gotta protect the boys," Tajima said, with a quick and crude gesture to his crotch.

A corner of Takaya's mouth quirked up. "Won't need it." He turned and asked, "Right, Mihashi?"

Mihashi blinked and then shook his head at the question.

Takaya took his position behind Tajima and crouched down. As much as he had reassured Shun about his pure intentions, it didn't mean that he wasn't _not_ interested in seeing Tajima at bat. Chances were that Musashino wouldn't face Nishiura in a tournament, but it never hurt to see how somebody performed.

Tajima's stance was relaxed with the bat held loosely. Natural. Takaya wouldn't have expected any different.

Mihashi threw a slider out to the side, Takaya watched as Tajima watched the pitch come in and while he twitched, he didn't move. 

Shun called, "Ball!"

Then, a screwball to the left. 

"Strike."

A curveball down low, outside.

"Ball."

Good eye, Tayaka thought. Shun's calls weren't bad, either. Of course, if they were bad, he'd have yelled at him right then and there. Any brother of his should definitely know how to make good calls.

A fastball to the center. Just to see.

"Strike."

A fastball, again, to the left. 

"Strike out!"

Mihashi stood up straight, as if he was being poked by a sharp stick. Takaya threw the ball back and nodded. They went through a few more iterations of pitching and strikes - Tajima was able to touch the fastball after the sixth pitch and Abe switched it up, until Tajima swung and hit the last pitch, a curveball, far and away. Shun dashed out to retrieve it.

Tajima let the end of the bat tap the ground, a frown of concentration on his face. "Again. That fastball. Something is weird about it."

A satisfied nod tipped Takaya's head, one that Mihashi didn't share. "Think you can hit it?"

Confidently, Tajima said, "I just need to see it a couple more times." Seeing that Mihashi was walking towards them, he asked, "How many zones was that?"

Mihashi paused to count.

"Seven," Takaya replied.

"Wow, I wish we had a pitcher like you at Nishiura. I guess we should be happy we have a team, even if there aren't enough players for a real game. Hanai's okay, and Oki tries real hard. We've got a couple of middle-schoolers who might come, but there's no pitcher. Not like you. We'd get to Koshien for sure!" 

"A pitcher - a pitcher like me?" Mihashi asked. 

"Oh yeah," Tajima said. "Nine sections!"

Mihashi turned to Takaya. "Koshien? Do you think?"

"Who doesn't want to go to Koshien?" Takaya said. "I want to."

"But, Hatake doesn't have any patience for me," Mihashi said, dropping his eyes to his fidgeting hands. "He likes Kanou better. Practices more, better signs with him." 

Takaya snorted. "He's a lardbutt with a crappy eye. Can't sign for shit. You're better than that."

"What kind of pitcher is Kanou?" Shun asked, curious, coming up with the ball in hand.

"He's got a forkball. Can go - like - really deep," Mihashi said.

Tajima gave a shrug. "I can hit it."

Takaya said, "You haven't seen it."

"I can hit it," Tajima repeated. "Okay, okay. What's the deal with shit eye lardbutt?"

Mihashi startled at the casual disrespect on display. "I - I - I went to Mihoshi for middle school, too, and I was the starter for my first year."

"What happened?" Takaya asked. "Kanou started the game I saw."

"Some parents complained and we started alternating. But Kanou overstrained himself last year -and gets really tired. So they split pitching between us. Kanou is capped at 100 pitches, but sometimes stops at 80."

"No stamina, huh?" Tajima said, tsking. 

"I - I - hated getting taken off the mound," Mihashi admitted. 

Takaya said, "I like that in a pitcher. No pitcher," he paused, correcting himself, "No worthwhile pitcher wants that."

"You do?" Mihashi looked surprised.

"Who wants a pitcher who's more worried about his arm than his team?" Takaya asked rhetorically.

Mihashi looked as if he was pondering something quite deep.

A family walked by with a huge picnic basket. "Ugh, I'm starving," Tajima said, "You think your mom's got some food, Shun?"

"Yeah," Shun replied. "It's a little early for lunch, but - " 

Startled, Mihashi checked the time. "I - I've got to get home. My mom - "

"Sure," Takaya said. He ought to get going as well. "I've got to get to practice."

"O- okay!" Mihashi said.

"We should do it again, sometime," Takaya said.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Text me when you're planning to come into town. We'll meet up, okay?" At Mihashi's quiet, Takaya asked, "What's the matter?"

"Oh - oh - "

Realizing the extent of his request, Takaya backtracked. "I mean, Gunma is pretty far - "

"No - no - I mean, Abe is amazing! I'm surprised - "

"Yeah," Takaya said, self-satisfied. He knew he was likely the best catcher Mihashi's ever played with. Especially if Hatake was the person against whom all comparisons were made. It was good to know that Mihashi recognized it. "So, you want to meet up later?"

Mihashi grinned, a wide happy look across his face. "Okay!"

* * *

At the beginning of practice, Haruna started in on it. "How was your girlfriend?"

Takaya shook his head. He _was_ going to try harder to be pleasant. "I don't have a girlfriend. I went to see a pitcher. In Gunma, from Mihoshi Academy. He's - "

A smirk crossed Haruna's face. "Boyfriend, then."

Takaya held onto his fraying temper. "I took some video - you need to check it out."

"Whatever." 

One of the seniors began calling them to practice.

* * *

"Hey, Haruna, check this out," Takaya tried again at the end of practice.

"Geez," Haruna said. "Not about that video again, is it?"

"Mihashi's got nine sections in the strike zone. Nine sections!"

"Yeah, maybe later." 

Takaya sighed, frustrated. "This is important, because it'll be good to try figure out any way to copy his control - "

"I'm not changing things up to satisfy you, Takaya."

"I'm not asking you to - I'm just asking you to look at this - "

"I'm already an ace pitcher, Takaya. I don't need to watch that video. I need to work out some more." Haruna walked out of the clubroom.

* * *

Takaya felt a buzz in his pocket. He pulled out his phone to find a text message waiting.

From Mihashi Ren:  
_Congratulations on win! You'll definitely go to Koshien! Sorry a week late._

Takaya texted back. _Thanks!_ Then, he tapped out: _How did you know?_

_Newspaper. Mom sent._

_Mom sends paper?_ Takaya was confused. Didn't they get baseball news in Gunma? 

_Dad in paper. Sports on back._

Oh. _How is practice? Lardbutt?_

 _Good._ An emoji of a smiling face appeared, but no real response about Hatake. _Game tomorrow._

_Good luck!_

* * *

A week later, Takaya was changing his shirt in the clubroom, his face grim. It had been a tough practice. Haruna's pitching was sloppy and he refused to even consider anything Takaya was signing. Machida got a better response, then again, Machida had seniority.

Takaya was upset about it, at a level that was probably unreasonable. It was like Seniors all over again. Haruna had gotten taller, his fastball had gotten faster, but nothing had changed. Their reunion was like putting on an old pair of dress shoes - yeah, the look was good, but then you really remembered why you didn't wear them. The fit left something to be desired. 

Earlier this year, he had overheard a conversation between Machida and Ookawa.

"Abe and Haruna playing together's like watching grudgesex. They both get something they want, but neither is satisfied. It's not like they to look forward to it or have a relationship outside of it. Maybe we should keep them apart." 

"C'mon, Ookawa. The two of them together do have a chemistry. They've won us some games. Some I think we couldn't have won without them, or with Haruna alone."

"I get it. But we still need to change something, Machida."

"Maybe we should try to get one of the other first-years to consider pitching or catching. I'll see what I can do with Abe. You talk to Haruna."

They walked by, and Takaya had to pretend ignorance. Shortly after, he noticed that Machida was trying to talk to him; strategy, team dynamics, the pitchers' personalities, their roles as catcher. He had mixed feelings about the attention. It was nice that a senior was taking an interest, but it was to fix a problem Takaya didn't know was fixable.

Haruna and some others were watching sporting news online on one of the third-years' laptop. "Hey - hey - " Haruna said, pointing to the screen around which a few other members huddled. "I think it's your boyfriend."

"What?" Takaya asked.

"You know, that pitcher from Gunma you're so obsessed by. Your long-distance boyfriend. Looks like his team made the news." Haruna leaned forward to see the school profile. "Looks kind of noodly. Doesn't look like he could bring enough power to any kind of pitch."

"I've got video," said Takaya. "You can see for yourself." 

"Nah," Haruna said. "I don't need to analyze other people's pitches. Especially if I'm never going to face them in a game. Anyway, that shit's your job."

* * *

Idly, Takaya texted Mihashi. _Saw your school's sports profile on tv._

Within a few minutes, Takaya's phone buzzed. 

From Mihashi Ren:  
_Reporter made me nervous._

Takaya typed: _How'd game go?_

From Mihashi Ren:  
_Won!!! I pitched three innings! No hits!_

From Abe Takaya:  
_You should try for more._

From Mihashi Ren:  
_I don't know if they will let me. Kanou's the ace._

Takaya looked at the screen, scowling. What was wrong with that team? Mihashi had the skills. Sure, his personality could do with a little work, but an arm like that couldn't be overlooked. Carefully, he edited down his thoughts to merely: _You've got the skills._

From Mihashi Ren:  
_You think so?!!_

_Yes. You could be a real ace._

From Mihashi Ren:  
_Worried about grades. I might not be able to play next season._

Quickly, Takaya replied. _You've got to study hard! You have to play!_

From Mihashi Ren:  
_Abe is so caring! I will try hard for him!_

Takaya looked at the screen, perplexed, trying to smash down the flutter the compliment gave his stomach. What kind of friends did Mihashi have that a text message like Takaya's led to a response like that?

* * *

What did other kids talk about with their texting buddies? Takaya wondered this almost every exchange. Surely those people didn't talk about what they ate in such detail, never mind fluctuations in weight, details of baseball practices, and commentary on televised sports games. 

Texting Mihashi was easier than listening to him; the big pauses came between sentences, not in the middle of them. Mihashi seemed to like it and Takaya found the back and forth a good distraction from whatever bullshit he had to deal with that day. Their texting had continued over the course of the next couple of weeks, gradually speeding up to a few exchanges a day.

Then Mihashi texted that he was coming home that weekend. Takaya couldn't stop from grinning when he read that.

* * *

They met at the park. After a few tosses, "We won yesterday," Mihashi said. "But it was just a practice game."

"It still makes you feel good, doesn't it?" Takaya asked.

"Yeah." 

"Then don't downplay it! A win is a win!"

Out of nowhere, Mihashi said, "Your pitcher must be awesome. Musashino got into the quarter finals in the fall last year."

"Yeah, no," Takaya said. "He sort of sucks."

"He sucks?" Mihashi looked confused. "but - but - he's an ace?"

"Trust me. He sucks."

Mihashi looked still and small. "But don't you like - you're awesome, so your pitcher must be - must the best - "

"No. He's the worst." Takaya frowned, trying to figure out what was going in the conversation.

"And I - and I - I don't think anybody likes to play with me. I don't think it's fun for them."

"I'm sure it's fine."

"--I only made the team - maybe because my grandfather -"

Was Mihashi making a comparison? Why would he be making a comparison? Takaya said, "He's not like you. I like playing with you."

He must have hit on the right tones because Mihashi lit up. "Me too. I mean, I'd like to pitch. To you. Not you pitch to me."

"...Right," Takaya said. 

They talked about the kinds of games they had seen, had played in, their coaches. They talked about their schools. They skirted around further talk of their respective teammates.

The exchange was oddly satisfactory. Mihashi was weird to talk to, but it's better than talking to Haruna, that's for damn sure. 

More than that, he was sorry when Mihashi had to go home.

* * *

Takaya biked down to Nishiura's playing fields, carrying a couple of large packages in his backpack. After braking and parking the bike against the chain link fence, he walked to the gate. His curious glance took in the sight of the entire team holding hands in a circle. He waited to the side until the circle broke up. 

Someone waved. Takaya waved back, belatedly remembering him from Seniors. Sakaeguchi. A nice kid on a mediocre team.

"Shun," Takaya called, "you forgot something at home. Mom wanted to make sure you had it."

"Ah, thanks," called Shun, running up to him. "You got the video camera?"

"Yeah," Takaya said. "There's even an extra memory card."

A round-faced boy with snub nose called Shun's name. "Be right there, Oki!" Shun said, taking the bag with him.

So that was Shun's potential battery-mate, Takaya thought.

"Hey!" Tajima said, walking up to him.

Takaya waved. "Hey." Not wanting to appear nosy, but still interested, he asked, "What's with the holding hands?"

"Coach says that that's a good way to check the state of someone's condition," replied Tajima. "If you're warm, it's good. If you're cold, that's not."

"Does it work?" Takaya asked.

"I think it does improve our communication, strictly," Tajima said. He gestured to the tallest player in the field. "Checking Hanai's hand has me thinking about how I can help my pitcher, what I can do to support him. You should try it."

"Okay." Takaya was skeptical, but hell. If Tajima of the Arakawa Sea Breams was selling it, he was willing to try it.

* * *

"I ain't holding hands with you." Haruna looked put off by the whole idea.

Feeling completely moronic, Takaya still pushed it. "It's supposed to improve communication."

Haruna said, "I don't hold hands with Akimaru and he understands me just fine. Isn't that right, Akimaru?"

Akimaru looked up from where he was cleaning the baseballs and nodded.

Takaya scoffed. "He wasn't even listening!"

"But he understood what I wanted. Right?" Haruna looked at Akimaru for confirmation.

Akimaru nodded again, smiling this time. 

Takaya ground his back teeth. Pitchers. "I think we do need help," Takaya insisted. Then he tried another tactic. "Would you even look at this - half an hour - " he dug around the video camera bag, trying to locate memory card of Mihashi pitching. He couldn't find it. Maybe Shun had it.

"No." Haruna sighed. "We do all right on the field. The team is all right. Better than when I got here. Why do I need to spend so much time with you?"

Takaya blinked. He had worked so hard at catching, hitting, running. Haruna knew this - they had been on the track and in the weight room together for months. And this was all Haruna could say? "I could have gotten into a much better school, but I came to Musashino because of you. Because I thought we could win. Together."

"We are winning. It started when I came. And I'm not even pitching full power." Haruna turned to Takaya. "I didn't ask you to come. Anyway, I can't be responsible for somebody else, besides this loser." He jerked his head toward Akimaru. "Especially somebody like you."

"What?" Takaya was taken aback. "What's wrong with me?"

"You're a nasty, mean, loud, and rude. And sometimes your play is one step away from dirty ball. Why the hell should I be responsible for you?"

Takaya's temper had been held back for too long. A snarl stretched across his face as he pressed forward. "Yeah, why should you start being responsible?"

"What?" Haruna took a step backward.

"You've never taken responsibility."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You abandoned the team!" Takaya spat. "When you left the mound during our last game together. You filled the bases and then you just left us in the Kanto Little Seniors tournament." He didn't speak of when he had begged Haruna not to leave the mound after 80 pitches after the other team had made a big lead. But Haruna had left, abandoning everybody. They lost terribly, and the humiliation had been incredibly painful.

Haruna's eyes widened the moment realization dawned. "That's middle school shit! You're not over that yet?" He defended himself. "That was years ago. It doesn't even matter. Why're you bringing it up now?"

"Because that's what you're like! And I - I didn't even think about it until now!"

"You believe what you like, and whether or not I need anybody. You don't know me. But I'm telling you, I don't need any particular catcher to make me good." 

Takaya's face paled, but before he could open his mouth, Akimaru grabbed Haruna and pulled him out of the room.

* * *

From Mihashi Ren:  
_Getting new coach._ Mihashi's text seemed cautiously optimistic. _Maybe even getting new pitching help. Other pitchers want, too. What do you think?_

Takaya thought carefully about answering. _More training is good._

From Mihashi Ren:  
_Really?_

_Yes. Don't hurt yourself._

From Mihashi Ren:  
_Abe is so good!!!_

Takaya closed his eyes. He didn't ever want Mihashi to think anything different.

* * *

Machida pulled Takaya aside after that tense day of practice. "I thought you guys had settled this already."

"Haruna - "

"You don't have to tell me about pitchers, okay," Machida said. "They're irrational and weird and impossible to understand. But you're a catcher, and you need them. And they need you. You understand?"

Takaya pressed his lips into a straight line. 

"If it were up to me, hey, I'd be glad to have you guys beat it out of each other," Machida said, off-hand. "But we can't have that. This isn't just about you and Haruna and whatever you have had in the past. This is a team."

A growl escaped. Takaya couldn't help it.

"I know you don't feel it like some of us seniors, but you are part of this team. Since Haruna came, and then you, this team has got a shot at Koshien. Something that hasn't happened in years. Nobody expected we'd get this far when I started. It's not just me, it's all the seniors. You've got to help the team to get there, Abe. We're counting on you. After Koshien, you guys can beat the shit out of each other and I won't care. You got that?"

"Yes, sir," Takaya said. 

Machida suddenly relaxed and his tone became less senior-lecturing-junior and more friendly almost-equals. "Now, let's talk strategy."

"Are you worried about Kasukabe?" Takaya asked.

"We beat them last fall." Scratching his head, Machida considered. "They did get two hits off Kaguyama, but they didn't get a single one off Haruna. We can't underestimate them, of course. But they shouldn't be a problem."

Takaya nodded. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Haruna walking with Kaguyama. He supposed Haruna was also getting the talk, because the next time they saw each other, they ground out grudging apologies and tried to patch things together.

* * *

Takaya's phone buzzed the morning of the game.

From Mihashi Ren:  
_Do your best! I know you'll win!!!_

Takaya's expression softened, thinking about Mihashi's happy face, and how the Mihoshi catcher treated him. Even Haruna didn't deserve that kind of treatment. (Not that he'd take it.) Takaya clamped down on his negative feelings for Haruna and prepared to catch.

The day was a scorcher. Kaguyama was supposed to hold out for the first four innings as usual, but he was slipping. Was it the heat? Or something else? Did Kasukabe know their best chance was during Kaguyama's time on the mound?

Ookawa made the call to bring in Haruna early, at the bottom of the third inning, with Machida still catching. For the next inning, Kawasaki got pulled from left field, Kaguyama moved to right field, and Takaya took Machida's place at home plate. They were trying to preserve hitting power with the option to switch out catchers as necessary.

As Takaya settled into a crouch, he heard Machida shout, "We're counting on you, Abe!" He had seen the looks on the placid faces of the batters as he walked to home plate. It made his blood boil. Did Kasukabe think they only had to contend with Haruna? He'd show them.

It was easy enough to see that Kasukabe was going for team batting, and trying to take Haruna off the mound. Fuck that, thought Takaya. He was going to make every pitch count. There weren't going to be any extra innings today. Not if he could help it.

Takaya had to give it to Haruna. He had gotten better at aiming in the year they'd been apart. "Better," though, wasn't actually good. Haruna's hitting had always been good and had only gotten better. And Takaya figured Haruna had to give him some credit as well, with all the workouts and practices - their practices were paying off. 

It was the start of the eighth inning when Kaguyama said, "I really think Haruna would pitch extra innings, if we asked." 

Haruna's very presence seemed to buoy up the team, an important psychological factor in any potential victory. It's not that Takaya didn't understand what Haruna brought to the team, it was more that his own feelings toward Haruna were complicated. Haruna was just so full of shit. At least, it was shit the team was buying.

Takaya said nothing, letting the statement stand. It was possible, he supposed. And pigs could fly.

Haruna broke pitch count at bottom of the eighth inning, but continued to throw. Takaya was keeping track in the back of his head and was surprised when Haruna shut down Akimaru's reminder. In the ninth inning, Takaya made a good solid double. His run, along with Machida's, pushed them over to the win.

When Takaya walked into the bus, he also wondered if he was walking into an alternative universe. Haruna offering to pitch from the beginning of the game against ARC? Not just that, but in consecutive games? Had he really changed?

As the rest of the team chattered around him, Takaya sat in silence on the rest of the ride home. Haruna giving the team his efforts should have felt better than it did. What was Takaya's problem? It seemed like it was enough for everybody else. He didn't want to be right about Haruna over winning, did he?

* * *

That evening, Ookawa, Machida, Kaguyama, Takaya, Haruna, and all the rest of the starters all gathered in the clubroom to watch the video given to them by Kasukabe. 

"It's going to be a tough, tough game," Machida said.

"Yeah," Kaguyama said. "We've got me, Haruna, and Suzume." 

Takaya said, "Not Suzume. Suzume's never pitched in a official game before."

Kaguyama nodded, continuing with his thought. "Anyway, ARC's got four good pitchers."

Ookawa said, "Everyone on that team can run. Everyone."

"And they've got Yoshida," Machida sighed.

"What about Yoshida?" Haruna asked.

Takaya looked at him and wanted to bark a disbelieving laugh. Haruna had an arm, but sometimes, it seemed like he barely had a brain.

Machida said, "He's not only got the resources, with that deep bench of pitchers and batters, he's also got the smarts. Like Abe."

Takaya felt a brief glow at the acknowledgement. 

"If Abe had a couple more years and a couple of you, Haruna, maybe we could compete with them pitch for pitch, but we can't. The game's tomorrow. We've got to do what we can," Machida said.

Ookawa seemed to have come to a decision. "We're going to have to figure out a plan around Haruna."

"I don't know - " Takaya said.

"We understand it's not a great plan, depending on only a single player," Ookawa said.

"But what if Haruna doesn't follow my lead?" Takaya asked.

"The things you want are really hard to follow," Haruna said. "What do you think I am? A machine?"

Placatingly, Ookawa said, "We are all going to do the best we can, right?"

Takaya held his tongue. Finally, he said, "We can't let them drive us to extra innings."

Machida nodded.

Kaguyama offered, "I can help Haruna go over what the batters seem to like."

"Abe, you're with me," Machida said. "We've got some other games and we can try to break it down to something you and I can feed Haruna."

Ookawa nodded at the gathered players, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Is that good? Great. With this, I think we can beat ARC. And head for Koshien!"

* * *

The match started inauspiciously. ARC took the lead aggressively, getting 3 hits off of Machida's lead. At Ookawa's pained gesture, Abe geared up to replace the older catcher at the bottom of the first inning. 

Haruna did try to follow his lead, but Takaya could tell he was getting frustrated. Was it because Haruna was pitching poorly, or was it because of Takaya's lead? Going up to the mound only increased their mutual irritation. Takaya knew Haruna well enough to have a good guess as to what he would pitch next, but each pitch release caused a small ache in his gut. He couldn't trust his pitcher not to cross him up. 

ARC was doing exactly what Takaya would do. Over the next few innings, Takaya saw that they were just trying to get the pitch count up and tire Haruna out while preserving their own pitcher's arm. ARC could see as well as anybody else that the team's power came from Haruna. They had already chased Kaguyama into right field, after all. 

The fifth inning opened with no new runs scored. And then, ARC got a few more hits. Fuck. Haruna had started to disregard Takaya completely, and the pitches started to go wild. 

Takaya went out to talk to Haruna, and they agreed to debut Haruna's new pitch. It was risky, because he hadn't perfected it yet, and the pitch was delivered successfully only about half of the time. Still, it surprised ARC enough to make some room. Musashino got back on the offensive, and two runs were earned by Ookawa and Machida in the sixth inning, preventing a shutout. Thank fuck. 

During the seventh inning, ARC got three runners on base, two of them due to being hit. Two outs, only needing one more to get off the field. Takaya started to have flashbacks to his Seniors season with Haruna. He found an odd parallel in being in the same situation, pleading in his head for Haruna not to leave the plate. Unlike two years ago, Haruna stayed, but it wasn't pretty. The pitches were wild, bases were loaded, and a power hitter came up to bat. Haruna had passed his pitch limit already. Takaya could only mentally chant "Haruna is staying, Haruna is staying…" 

Haruna flung, the ball got smacked and went deep. One runner crossed home plate. The second runner crossed home plate. The ball was picked up and thrown back to Haruna, who gunned it to Takaya. Takaya caught the ball and then blocked home plate, unable to get out of the way as the runner come bearing down on him, his massive shoulders wide enough block the sun. Takaya watched in slow motion as the runner's cleat contacted his leg, felt the wrenching twisting through his knee, and then his own, smaller body was knocked to the side by the runner's much greater weight and momentum. He hoped he had tagged the runner in good time. 

Distantly, he heard the umpire call "Out!"

Takaya tried to rise and his leg crumpled under his weight. His left knee was on fire. Stunned, he could hardly draw a breath. Ookawa called a panicked time out and two members of the team rushed out of the dugout to carry him back. The medical team took a look at his leg. After a short examination, he was given the verdict. He had sprained his knee, badly. He would not be going back onto the field. 

"No!" he cried, trying to rise, but immediately fell back, biting his lip in pain.

Takaya's knee was wrapped, put on ice and elevated. He saw the scoreboard move to 5-2, favoring ARC. Shit. Could they close the gap in two innings? How could he have gotten hurt in such an important game? He knew his position at home plate hadn't been perfect, but the runner could have run around him. 

Sitting down next to him on the bench, Ookawa said, "It's not your fault, Abe. Sometimes, these things happen. You did what you had to do. Just, we could have used you for a while longer." He sighed and stared out at the field.

Musashino hit two runs at the top of the eighth inning. Akimaru put on the pads and went out the next time Musashino went on the defensive. The inning went moderately well, as no more hits were made, but the pitching was poor. Haruna didn't know what his body was like after 100 pitches. 

In the bottom of the ninth inning, more ARC players got on base, and Musashino was unable to get anybody out. Runners kept stealing bases, Haruna kept throwing badly, and the runs came in. The final out was called, and ARC was the declared the winner at 8 runs to 4. 

Musashino's run to Koshien had ended in the prefectural semi-finals.

* * *

Carefully, Takaya went along on his crutches, gathering in the hallway with the rest of the team. Some splayed on the ground, weeping, others sobbed noisily in little groups. His own eyes were dry, sore. He couldn't even cry with his own teammates about this loss. 

Ookawa said, "I'm sorry, Haruna, this was our limit. Koshien was a long shot, we knew that."

Astonished, Takaya heard Haruna trying to comfort the seniors. "No, it was my fault. My limit." 

"We never would have gotten this far without you," Ookawa said.

Takaya had to admit that he was wrong about Haruna, at least, about this. Haruna had grown, he had stayed in for the whole game, at over 130 pitches. What did it say about him and what had happened in the Kanto Little Seniors tournament if Haruna did this here but walked out on him? 

After he had been helped outside and exchanged bows with ARC, Takaya turned to follow the rest of the team to the locker room to change. Mihashi was standing there, his face wet and his eyes red. What was Mihashi doing here?

"Abe!" Mihashi said, running toward him. "I came to the game - to see you - "

"Mihashi! Are you crying? Why're you crying?" Unthinking, Takaya's hand rose to Mihashi's cheek.

"It's - it's for you, Abe. Because you couldn't make your dream come true."

"Yeah - " Takaya's throat closed up. He looked down at his crutches, his knee wrapped in pressure bandages, his dirt-stained cleats.

Mihashi's shoes moved into his field of sight, and then Takaya felt Mihashi's arms around him. Takaya took in the feel of other boy's thin frame and shaky breathing against his own body, the faint smell of summer sweat, the touch of fine hair against his cheek. Takaya's arm rose up on its own and pulled the other boy into a one-armed embrace. In the safety of Mihashi's arms, in this circle of understanding, Takaya began to sob, brokenly. 

"Who's this, Takaya?" asked Haruna, coming up from behind.

Mihashi startled. "I'm - un - un - "

Takaya choked and wiped the damp from his eyes. This was not the most ideal time to introduce them. "Haruna, this is Mihashi Ren."

A gleam lit in the back of Haruna's eyes. "Mihashi. You're from Gunma?"

"Y-y-yes."

Takaya covered his eyes with a hand. "See you later, Haruna. Mihashi, we can talk later - "

"Hey, I saw that video of you," Haruna said.

Mihashi looked like he'd been hit with an electric cattle prod. "Haruna is so nice!"

"When?" asked Takaya, his chin jutting out. Was that what happened to his video card?

"The other day," Haruna replied, vaguely. "Anyway, you could get more speed on your pitches."

"Oh, oh!" Mihashi looked thrilled. 

"He's fine," retorted Takaya. "He doesn't need fixing."

"He does. We all do," Haruna said. He turned to Mihashi. "Watch your stance and your arm rotation." He poked Takaya in the side of the head as he walked away. "Hurry up and finish talking to your boyfriend. Captain will want a meeting after this."

* * *

Takaya stepped outside of the doctor's office to find Machida, in running clothes, waiting for him. 

"I've come to help you back," the older catcher announced.

Slowly, Takaya pedaled through the near-empty streets while Machida jogged next to him. 

"I really love baseball." Thoughtfully, Machida said, "After my first year, I thought about leaving Musashino. Or quitting the team."

"You!" Takaya stopped.

A wry smile touched Machida's lips. "You might think my stake in this team is over, but it doesn't mean I forgot what it was like! Kaguyama wasn't the pitcher I wanted, this team wasn't what I wanted, and I definitely didn't want to lose anymore. But we grew together. And I had to learn to share the burden of poor performance and bad calls."

They paused at the base of a large hill.

"When I started, I thought it was easy to blame other people for my unhappiness, but I also needed to think about my contribution, what I could and couldn't do. Could I commit, truly, to this team for the next two years? Even more than I had already? But then, my bonds with the other team members helped me decide I could. And people contribute best where they're happy, where they feel valued. That's why I stayed at Musashino - because I found happiness and teamwork here."

"I don't know if you've been happy here. If you're looking for acknowledgement from Haruna, you might not get that. That doesn't mean your efforts were empty and meaningless. You just need to find your own meaning for the time you've spent."

Machida got behind Takaya's bike and began to push him up a hill. "You know this was the last season for us seniors, right?"

Takaya nodded. After the last game, the seniors had begun to disperse to cram school or personal study for the university entrance exams.

"That means my job is almost over, except to cheer on you juniors. You've been a good addition to the team, Abe. And because of that, I think you should know that we've picked Haruna as the next captain."

Managing not to snort, Takaya nodded again. 

"Maybe you think he doesn't deserve it. We, Ookawa and Kaguyama and the other seniors, think he does. Haruna's been very good for the team, and he's brought a lot to it. He is our ace and without him, for sure we wouldn't have gotten as far as we did."

They had reached the top of the hill and Machida walked around to Takaya's side. "I'm glad you came to Musashino. You've got a lot of potential." He grinned ruefully at Takaya's nonplussed expression. "Hey - just because I'm not as good a catcher as you doesn't mean I can't see what you do. You'll probably be captain after Haruna. We've talked about it."

Takaya was speechless at the compliment Machida had just given him.

"I know it's been hard for you here, especially now that you've been hurt, but don't let that stop you from playing. And besides, you know that Haruna was really hurt in middle school, right?"

Reluctantly, Takaya agreed. "Yeah."

Machida suggested, "He's more understanding than you might expect." 

"Maybe." Takaya still felt the faint sting of old resentment. It had faded, but hadn't disappeared entirely.

They had reached the school. "I think you really love baseball, too. And you should keep playing." Machida patted Takaya's shoulder. "Think about it," he said as he walked away.

After parking the bike and chaining it, Takaya leaned against the rack trying to absorb what Machida had said. After all this time, after all the things that went on in this season, he already knew that he had a lot to take in. Most of all, he knew he wanted not to screw up his relationships like he had before.

* * *

"Again!" said Takaya.

Mihashi wound up and threw the ball at the marked-off zones in the homemade target in his big backyard. This was the first time Takaya had seen Mihashi's setup and could see how Mihashi had developed his own style. The past couple of months with the new coach at Mihoshi had also made some changes to Mihashi's pitch, ones that Takaya observed with approval. Takaya wasn't able to crouch down quite properly to catch yet, but he was happy to watch. 

They heard the sound of a car door slamming. Shortly after, a female voice came through an open window. "Ren! Dinner!"

Takaya sat down next to Mihashi at the dining room table. He tried to think about what his mother would have liked him to say. "You've got a really nice house, Mrs. Mihashi. Thank you for inviting me."

"Thank you, Abe." Mrs. Mihashi looked a little embarrassed at the fast-food fried chicken. "I'm sorry it's not homemade."

"It's great," Takaya assured her. He didn't need to think about what his mother would want when he replied, "I like chicken."

An older man, with a calm face and kind eyes was already sitting at the table. "Oh, Abe - you're a friend of Ren's."

"Y- yes," Mihashi said.

"What position do you play?" asked Mr. Mihashi.

"Catcher," Takaya replied.

"That's nice," Mrs. Mihashi said, and she smiled. She looked just like Mihashi.

"Abe is - Abe is amazing!" Mihashi declared.

Much to his embarrassment, Takaya flushed. 

After dinner, Mrs. Mihashi pulled Takaya aside. "I'm so glad we finally got to meet you. Ren doesn't have a lot of friends at school. Just boys he plays baseball with."

Takaya blinked. "It's nice to meet you, too."

She lowered her voice. "Ren doesn't have a lot of people who appreciates baseball like he does. Somebody who recognizes his hard work and acknowledges him. Thank you for being his friend. Please keep looking after him."

"No problem, Mrs. Mihashi." Wow, Takaya thought. That was awkward. But he guessed declarations must a thing in this family.

* * *

From Abe Takaya:  
_Hey! Good news! We're going to be playing you! And I'll be catching!_

After several minutes, the text came back. _Kanou's really hurt._

Takaya wrote, _What's going to happen?_

_?? worry???_

_Just got to do your best._ Then another thought occurred to Takaya. _How are teammates?_

There wasn't a reply.

Shortly, Takaya got a call. "Hello?"

"It's me, Mihashi."

"Hey. You didn't text back." 

"...Yeah. I - I - I had to go outside the dorm to call."

Takaya heard a choking sound, like Mihashi was desperately trying not to cry. "You okay?"

"I - I - Kanou is probably not going to pitch next game."

"That sucks for Kanou - but that means you're going to, right?"

"They may not - " Takaya heard the voice in the background, taunting, saying something like 'might as well break his arm.'

"Mihashi - are they talking to you? About a broken arm? Is there anybody you can talk to?"

"Nobody," sobbed Mihashi. "Only you."

"Mihashi - ! Do you need something? Should I call somebody?"

There wasn't anything on the other end of the line. The connection was broken.

* * *

It was a frantic half-hour where Takaya sent a barrage of texts and left numerous voice messages before he received an answer. 

From Mihashi Ren:  
_sorry._

Takaya hit the speed dial button. "Mihashi! You've always got to text back!"

"Sorry," was not said so much as breathed.

"What happened?!"

"Nothing. I don't know if I'm going to play in next game."

"Why wouldn't you?"

"There's somebody else this year. He's new." Mihashi's voice was tight, choked. "Everybody likes him better."

"I like you. As a pitcher and a person." Takaya's voice became intense as he tried to push strength and encouragement through the airwaves in the hope they reached the other end. "I've seen you play, Mihashi. You're amazing. They have to let you play."

"I - I - "

"Mihashi," Takaya said, "You work so hard, you try so hard, you're the amazing one."

"I want to play, I want to pitch." Mihashi's voice seemed to warm up, gain strength. "When I don't pitch, I disappear - but with you, it's like I'm still here…thank you, Abe."

"Mihashi, I should thank you."

"You really think so?" 

Takaya held the phone up to his ear, his hand pushing it hard up against his face, imagining Mihashi doing the same, so far far away from him, an invisible line connecting their two voices, their two hands. "Yes."

* * *

Takaya walked onto the field, marveling, as he always did, the difference between being in the stands and being down on the actual ground. He preferred the ground. He swore he would not get hurt again.

As they gathered in the guest dugout at Mihoshi Academy, Haruna looked at Takaya searchingly.

Finally, annoyed, Takaya asked, "What?"

"This is your first game back." 

"And?" 

"Are you good for playing today?" Haruna asked.

"Why?" Takaya asked. "You don't want me to play?"

"You'll probably go easy on Mihashi," Haruna said. 

"Do you think I would?" Takaya challenged. 

Haruna thought. "Maybe not for a real game. But this is 'only' a practice game with a team we're never going to see in tournament play. But you think this pitcher belongs to you. I don't think you could stand to see him hurt." 

Takaya grunted. "I'm fine with it. We all play. We know the risks."

"Kid can't hit! I saw the video. It'll be easy to strike him out. You should use it."

Unable to answer, Takaya said, "Fuck you."

"No, fuck you," Haruna said, oddly satisfied. 

Takaya fumed, what did Haruna think he was about to do? FUCK, he thought. Fuck me. Would he have gone soft on Mihashi if Haruna hadn't said anything? Were his feelings getting in the way of the game? 

A hunched figure in Mihoshi's blue and black practice uniform hurried from the field, catching Takaya's eye. That was Mihashi's number. Takaya checked the urge to call out to him, and he climbed out of the dugout and chased him.

Takaya caught up with Mihashi outside the baseball grounds, near some pale brick buildings. Mihashi was crying silently in his hands, kneeling behind some bushes. 

"What is going on?" Takaya asked, squatting down on the ground next to him. "Why did you run out of the dugout?" Thinking about the events of the previous week, he asked, urgently, "Are you okay? Did the bullying get to you?"

"No - maybe - "

"Because you need to talk to somebody." Takaya searched his head for something Mihashi could have latched on to as something to worry about. "Is it the pitching form? Are you worried about that?"

Mihashi shook his head, pale.

"Then what're you doing, running away? Let me understand." 

"I don't want to be somebody who causes you problems!" Mihashi cried.

"You heard Haruna?" Takaya asked.

Mihashi blurted, "I don't want you to think less of me - I don't want you mad at me - " His head drooped forward, forlorn. "You're my friend, Abe. I don't want to play against you."

Takaya began to frown. Musashino hadn't come out to Gunma for this. "What?"

"I don't want to play against you," Mihashi repeated. 

"Is that really it?" Takaya wondered.

Mihashi nodded miserably, curled into himself.

The memory of Tajima's earnest face flashed in Takaya's head. What was the best way to support this pitcher? To help him be the best pitcher he could? Takaya reached for Mihashi's hand. "Is that really it?"

Mihashi's eyes began to fill. "I will disappoint you. Like I disappoint everybody."

"No. You won't." Takaya said, clutching their closed hands together. If his hand was cold, Mihashi's was freezing. 

"You're just saying that."

"I'm NOT just saying that." Takaya couldn't help the intensity in his voice.

"You'll see me and know I'm no good. You've already got Haruna." 

"Haruna doesn't matter, if that's what's bothering you. Is it that?"

"And - and you'll stop being my friend and from seeing me and acknowledging me."

"Is that it?"

Mihashi nodded, looking frightened.

"Haruna - he's just a pitcher," Takaya said, feeling the truth of the words as he said them. "Sure we've played together, but that's not about you and I. You're amazing," and as he held Mihashi's hand, the skin began to warm. "You're strong. You work hard."

Mihashi's eyes overflowed. "You think so?"

"Yes. I know how good you are. I've seen it."

"I want to play with you - !" Mihashi hiccupped. 

"I want to play with you, too, Mihashi. Maybe someday, we will be teammates."

"I want to show you everything I can do," Mihashi said. "I want to work hard for you. In a real game."

"I know," Takaya said. He felt perilously close to tears. 

Softly, Mihashi said, "You catching for me - making calls - it makes me feel good."

Takaya nodded. "Yeah. I want to. But I can't. Not today."

"I know," mourned Mihashi. "Hatake and Suzuki - they're not you - " he sniffled. "They don't see -"

"I want to be your catcher. I want to show you how we can work together and win. We could be an amazing battery," Takaya said. "If we were on the same team, I know we could go anywhere."

"I wish - " Softly, Mihashi said, "I would choose you over anybody in Mihoshi."

Takaya swallowed, hard. "Me, too." He almost smiled. "I mean in Musashino." He took a shuddering breath. 

Mihashi's eyes were hopeful.

Oh, shiiit. Takaya knew he had to bring it under control. "Someday. But today - today, Mihashi, I want to show everybody on my team what you're capable of. We're all out here for you. I'm depending on you to pitch a game against me. I want you to beat me." 

Mihashi's lips quivered and then flattened. He nodded, and raised his shoulder to wipe at his eyes. "Today. Today, we are opponents."

"I'm not going to go easy on you," Takaya warned.

Mihashi nodded. "No. I want to win. And I'm going to pitch my hardest."

Takaya noticed Mihashi's eyes were clear, his skin pleasantly warm. "Okay. Come on. Let's get out of here before our teammates think we're giving away the game. You better strike me out, or I'm going to get pissed."

* * *

Musashino Dai Ichi won the practice game against Mihoshi Academy, 2-1. Observers of the game commented on the quality of both batteries, so different and yet they managed to hold each other's team to the smallest of margins. 

These same observers would be forgiven at their surprise at the conclusion of the game. The pitcher of Mihoshi Academy and the catcher of Musashino Dai Ichi ran up to each other and embraced, acting not only as if they were on the same team, but also as if they had just won a major victory.

* * *

"Hey, Mom." Takaya paused at the entry of the kitchen.

His mom looked up from making dinner, curious.

Nervously, he asked, "Can I - we talk a minute?"

Misae looked startled, but then rapidly nodded, wiping her hands on her apron. "What's going on, Taka?"

He laid it all out for her, the pros and cons of his upcoming decision. "I have the recommendations and the scores. I can do this. If I have to, I can retake the exams."

"Well, if you're asking about the money, it's really not going to cost us anything different. So don't worry about that. I think it's really your decision, and whatever you do is going to have consequences."

Takaya looked grim. "I know what the safe decision is - but what is the right decision?"

"I can't answer that for you. Just think - Taka, if you don't do this, would you regret it more than if you did? Even if it doesn't work out the way you think it will?"

"I - I don't know." 

"You have some time, right? You don't have to tell anybody right away, do you?" She nudged his shoulder. "And if you're worried about Shun, then maybe you should talk to him. Not at him. And listen. Okay?"

"...Okay."

* * *

The spring air was cool as Takaya walked in through the gate of a chain-link fence that had seen better days. He had given up a lot to be here, on this slightly scrubby public school ball field. He shifted his shoulders, the uniform was new and didn't sit quite right just yet.

"Hey! Hey! Happy first day of practice!" He looked across the field, to see Tajima waving. He could see Sakaeguchi warming up with Hanai and Oki. "Guess who else transferred?"

A huge smile broke out across Takaya's face as he saw the slight headbob of the light-colored hair of the person standing behind Tajima. 

"Abe!" shouted Mihashi.

Takaya broke into a run. He was met halfway, Mihashi having hurled himself forward. Their hands came up to clasp each others', gripping as if to never let go. Takaya had given up his seniority, his security, his old team, his shot at captaincy, and his school to don the uniform of a Nishiura baseball team member his second year of high school. For a whole two years he'd play with Mihashi. And as he looked into the smiling face of the boy in front of him, he thought, it was totally worth it.

* * *

_Extra scene:_

"Are you leaving because of me? Because I'm captain now?"

Takaya almost smiled. "No. I'm certain I'm not doing this because you're captain."

Haruna blustered, "I would have expected you to stay and become the next captain."

"I appreciate it. But no thanks. I don't need it."

"You don't want it? I think you'd want to be captain and boss everybody else around," Haruna said. His eyes narrowed. "You're going to play with your boyfriend, aren't you?"

Takaya shook his head. "I don't know. But I think it's -"

"It's probably for the best," Haruna mused. "I thought about what you said. I did appreciate what you did for me in Seniors - I mean, you helped me when even Akimaru wouldn't. I can't forget that."

Eyes wide with surprise at the suddenness of the compliment, Takaya said, "It- it-- "

Haruna put his hands on his hips. "You're leaving because of me, right? Well, it would be hard coming after me, after I take this team to Koshien." Then he grinned. "Maybe I'll see you there."

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for bad baseball-ing.
> 
> I really wanted Abe and Mihashi to play with the rest of the Nishiura team, so it's just a first year and then transfer.
> 
> I also thought Abe needed a good senpai.
> 
> And I came across something in the research that confused me and any enlightenment would be much appreciated.  
> Once a kid transfers high schools in Japan, they have to retake the entirety of the high school curriculum, and while this isn't common, it isn't super uncommon. https://web.archive.org/web/20141008055549/http://www.education-in-japan.info/sub108.html
> 
> I just wanted to write a couple of scenes about boys playing catch. hahaha. Nearly 12k later, falls down dead.


End file.
